Lottie felt the stir before she saw him—Leo slipping into the seat beside her with the kind of casual grace that always seemed half accidental, half orchestrated. His scent reached her first: clean soap, the faintest trace of peppermint, something sharp beneath that stirred faint awareness across her skin.
"Busy morning, champion," Leo murmured under his breath, his lips barely moving as his fingers tapped a quiet rhythm on the desk, the edge of his shoe grazing hers beneath the table.
Lottie's fingers tensed around her pen, the plastic biting faintly into the crease of her thumb. She didn't look at him, but the corner of her mouth curved ever so slightly. "I could say the same," she breathed, eyes flicking briefly to the front where the teacher droned on, the words flattening into meaningless sound.
Between them, a quiet current passed—unspoken, taut, electric.
Leo shifted, his knee brushing hers just lightly enough to seem accidental. His voice dipped, a vibration so low it stirred the fine hairs at her nape. "Your sister's mask is cracking."
Lottie inhaled softly, letting the words thread through her pulse. She focused on the feel of the paper under her palm, the faint tickle of air from the vent overhead, the whisper of Leo's sleeve against hers as he leaned forward just a breath closer.
"I know," she murmured, eyes still down, watching the loops and scratches of her pen blur. "I can hear it in her laugh."
Leo's soft huff of laughter barely disturbed the air, there and gone like a flicker of static. His fingers resumed their tap, a series of short and long beats—code, she realized, heartbeat tightening. She caught the pattern, adrenaline blooming sharp under her skin.
Testing.
Lottie let her pen hover, a moment's pause, then dropped it deliberately. The faint clatter on the floor was lost in the shuffle of chairs, but her fingers brushed against his as they both reached for it. His skin was cool, callused just at the edges, his touch a brief squeeze of confirmation.
"You're sharper than I thought," she murmured, the corner of her mouth softening, the words shaped like a secret.
"And you're a better player than you let on," Leo murmured back, the edge of a grin brushing his voice.
Across the room, Evelyn's gaze cut toward them, swift and precise, the corner of her eye twitching tight before she smoothed her expression.
Lottie felt the spike of triumph twist through her—small, wicked, undeniable. She let her shoulders slip into a more relaxed line, spine softening as though she hadn't felt the weight of Evelyn's eyes burning into her skin for the past half hour. Her pulse hammered, but her exterior was marble.
Evelyn's lips thinned.
The exchange was almost invisible. A glance, a smirk, the slight tilt of Leo's head as his fingers drummed another quiet rhythm. But to Evelyn, Lottie knew, it would sting.
And it did.
Lottie caught the flick of Evelyn's nails, faint crescents pressing into the spine of her notebook, the pinched breath she released when her friends tittered beside her, the flicker of fury in her eyes that flared before she masked it again under a honeyed laugh.
The air tasted sharp, metallic, like the moment just before a thunderstorm splits the sky.
Leo stretched long in his chair, fingers laced behind his head, legs extended until his heel bumped hers beneath the desk. "So," he murmured, voice soft as sin, "what's your next move?"
Lottie drew in a slow breath, the scrape of air cold against the inside of her throat. Her pen tapped once against the table, then again, her fingers cool and measured though her heart skittered wild.
"Depends," she murmured back, her lashes lowering. "Are you in, or are you just here for the show?"
Leo's grin sharpened, a slow pull at the corners of his mouth, unapologetic and a little dangerous. "Why not both?"
A low laugh slipped from her, almost involuntary, a breath of sound she caught between her teeth. For a heartbeat, the iron knot wound tight around her chest loosened, the constant prickle of vigilance easing just slightly.
But only slightly.
Because Evelyn's gaze landed again, sharp as a scalpel, carving through the moment. Lottie felt the pulse of it like a touch between her shoulder blades, a cold, steady pressure. She sensed the coil of Evelyn's shoulders, the slight tremor in the tips of her fingers, the minuscule pause in her speech before she remembered to laugh.
"Careful," Lottie whispered to Leo, the words no more than a wisp of air, "you're becoming a liability."
"Or an asset," Leo murmured, voice curling with amusement. "Depends on who you ask."
The classroom buzzed softly, the shuffle of pages, the faint click of pens, the undercurrent of voices tangled beneath the teacher's droning. But to Lottie, it all faded into the sharp, thin thread of tension thrumming between the three of them—her, Leo, Evelyn—a live wire stretched tight across the room.
A folded note appeared under Lottie's hand—swift fingers, practiced, sliding it into her palm. Her pulse gave a hard jolt. She unfolded it with delicate care, the paper whispering across her skin.
I see more than you think.
The scrawl was unmistakably Leo's, the loops loose and the edges teasing.
Her lips twitched, the faintest pull at the corners, before she folded the note again with quiet precision, slipping it into her pocket where the paper brushed warm against her leg.
Evelyn's gaze was a blade, honed and waiting.
The lesson dragged to its close, the tick of the clock thunderous in her ears. Lottie felt every second as a live thing—Evelyn's quick glances, Leo's calm drumming, Amy's fidgeting two rows over, twisting her pencil between shaking fingers. The noise in the room pressed against her skin like static, the weight of unspoken things thickening the air.
When the bell split the tension, the sound cracked through the room like a gunshot.
Lottie rose, unhurried, gathering her things with deliberate care. She felt Leo shift beside her, the faint tug of air as he straightened, the quiet brush of his fingers as they skimmed the edge of her sleeve. His mouth curved in a grin, the shadow of a challenge glinting in his eyes.
"You're fun," he murmured, voice pitched low, warm enough to coil through her spine.
"Careful," Lottie murmured, voice like silk drawn across a blade, "or you'll end up on the wrong side."
His grin widened, teeth sharp and bright. "I like living dangerously."
Evelyn passed them then, her shoulder grazing Lottie's—not hard enough to push, but not soft enough to ignore. The faintest smile touched her lips, a whisper of something cold. "Making new friends, Lottie?" she murmured, voice dipped in sugar, sharp at the edges.
Lottie tilted her head, lashes lowering, her mouth curving slow and smooth. "I've always been good at spotting talent." The words were soft, but they landed heavy between them.
Evelyn's eyes flickered, a quick fracture in the polished calm, before she slipped away, her friends orbiting close, laughter trailing in brittle waves behind her.
Amy darted to Lottie's side, eyes wide, voice trembling. "Lottie, are you sure about… him?" Her glance skittered toward Leo, standing with lazy indifference, hands in his pockets, watching with that faint gleam of amusement.
"No," Lottie said softly, sliding her hand into her pocket, feeling the crisp edge of Leo's note. "But that's what makes it interesting."
The hallway roared around them, a tide of noise—laughter, sharp whispers, the slamming of lockers and the scrape of shoes against tile. Lottie felt the heat of every glance, the pull of every word flung like a stone across the crowd.
Beside her, Leo matched her step for step, his fingers brushing the side seam of his jeans, drumming another rhythm she was just beginning to decode.
Her heart slammed hard, sharp with anticipation, her skin humming with the wild edge of something beginning to shift.
Across the corridor, Evelyn paused at her locker, pale fingers pressed against cold metal, her mouth tight, eyes locked to Lottie like a sniper sighting a target.
Lottie met her gaze, the hallway dissolving into blur and noise. For that single breath, everything sharpened—Evelyn's brittle poise, Leo's smirk at her side, Amy's anxious shadow at her elbow.
And with a slow, deliberate curve of her mouth, Lottie let the smile unfurl.
Not the polite tilt she'd given before. Not the easy smirk.
A promise. A challenge. A whisper of war dressed in velvet and steel.
As the crowd surged around her, voices crashing like waves, the game wound tighter, and Lottie felt it slide into place with the quiet precision of a blade sliding home.
For the first time, she wasn't standing alone. And Evelyn knew it. She could see it in the split-second hardening of her eyes, the way her fingers flexed white against the locker, the moment her lips parted as though to speak—but no sound came.
Lottie turned, brushing her sleeve lightly past Leo's as they moved forward, her chest tight with a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Amy scurried to match their pace, her small frame tense, her eyes darting like a bird caught between lightning and storm.
"Lottie…" Amy's voice was a thin thread of uncertainty.
Lottie's hand hovered just briefly, brushing the girl's elbow, steadying. "We've got this," she murmured, her voice calm, cold, sure.
Leo chuckled under his breath, the sound a quiet weapon, his steps light as though the storm wasn't already crackling at his heels.
And behind them, Evelyn's laughter rang out—a shade too bright, a beat too sharp, a sound stretched thin at the seams.
Lottie walked on, pulse hammering, eyes bright, the silent pact humming between her fingers.